


One Night Stand

by goseaward



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-16
Updated: 2004-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:01:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goseaward/pseuds/goseaward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape helps Draco recover from a Death Eater meeting, but there are currents Draco can't quite figure out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night Stand

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the Snape/Draco fest at the Ouroboros for Sparrohawk, who asked for: "Plot, please. I'd prefer no cross-dressing, mpreg, brutality or senseless violence. Mindfucks are okay :)." Not as much plot as I was planning on, but I hope it's enough!  
> Extreme thanks to Anj, who betaed in just a few hours (since I'm a horrible procrastinator).

Draco leant against a tree, nearly ready to vomit. His nerves still sparked and twitched with pain after the latest Cruciatus, and the stress had weakened all his other defenses, so he figured it was better to stand here with his knees shaking than throw up and _really_ show he couldn't handle it. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and tensed until he noticed who it was. Snape nodded at him once, and then the world lurched two feet to the left and Draco fell, retching, to his knees. He was really more concerned with the throbbing mauve sparkles in his kneecaps than the spasms in his stomach, though neither were particularly pleasant. Finally his stomach seemed empty, and he managed to move away from the mess he'd made, folding his forearms and resting his head on them. Snape waited. 

When he'd recovered, and started to stand up, Snape stepped forward and helped him. Draco looked around, but the trees didn't seem much different than they had before. That lurch had definitely been Apparition, though... 

Snape's arm was still warm across his back as they walked through the trees. Draco thought he could feel every bony finger pressed into his pectoral. 

The forest ended more suddenly than Draco was expecting, and ahead of him was the unmistakable silhouette of Hogwarts. "You brought me _here_?" he asked. His voice was hoarse, but he didn't have enough energy to be embarrassed. 

"And where else would I take you?" Snape's voice was still rich brandy and warm chocolate, despite his own turn at the end of Voldemort's wand tonight. "Your home? I can't Apparate there; you were in no condition to do so." 

"But Dumbledore—" 

"Did you want me to leave you there for Macnair or the Lestranges?" 

Draco couldn't quite suppress a shudder, not caring that Snape could feel it. "No." What the others would want from him...well...he'd given it before, and could again, if it came to that. But Snape... 

...Would he want anything? Draco had no idea. They'd barely spoken since he'd left Hogwarts. 

He stumbled, and Snape's arm tightened. "I have something that may help," he said. "Another reason to return here." 

They weren't heading for the main doors. Draco looked at the familiar portal, and Snape must have seen the question on his face. "The main staircases are less than fond of me, especially now," he said. "We'll take another route." 

Draco tried to think of a path to the dungeons that didn't include the main staircases, and couldn't; but he was tired, and sore, and Snape's fingers were distracting, and after all he didn't really care. 

They entered through a small stone door Draco had never seen and took several twisting hallways before coming out near Snape's office door. Draco looked behind them; it appeared they'd come through the solid blocks of granite that made up the walls in this part of the school. He decided not to ask. 

Without preamble Snape opened the door, led him through the familiar office, and then opened the door behind the desk that Draco had always wondered about. He didn't say a password, but Draco felt the thousand-gnat feeling of wards, which was almost enough to send him vomiting again. 

This was apparently Snape's parlour. Snape deposited Draco on the sofa and walked over to one of the cabinets. "Take your robe and shirt off," Snape said over his shoulder. 

Well, that answered one question. Draco started to disrobe; he was undoing his trouser placket when Snape turned. "This won't do any good down there," he said. He was pouring some kind of pale red gel over his hands. 

Draco blinked. 

Snape's fingers were twisting like little snakes, spreading the gel in a thick layer over the surface of his hands. They twined and slid quickly, and Draco found himself wondering if maybe he wanted to try something himself, because if Snape could do _that_ with his hands half an hour after Cruciatus...well. And those fingers had felt so strong on his side... 

"Lie down," Snape said, and Draco obeyed more quickly than he'd thought he could, mostly to hide the reaction those words caused. 

The gel was warm and slightly tingly when it touched Draco's shoulderblades, though it didn't seem to reduce the discordant jangling of his nerves. As the warm patches spread, and Snape's fingertips started to be almost hot, little incandescent points against Draco's skin, he decided that maybe it worked by distraction. One hand drew a line down his spine, and Draco couldn't help a little arch into it, a little twitch of his hips. The hand disappeared for a moment, then reappeared to take the place of the other. Draco turned his head just enough to notice that Snape had taken his shirt off, and was as pale as he, if more sallow. While he was concentrating on the hand coming close enough to his armpit to nearly tickle, another appeared right above his waist and went straight across. 

Enough. 

Draco turned, smearing the gel on Snape's hands right around onto his chest and stomach, and leaned up for a kiss. He thought he saw Snape smile before their lips touched, but then he closed his eyes and it didn't matter any more. 

*** 

"...back here?" 

That sounded like Dumbledore. Draco sat straight up, but there was no one in the parlour. 

"He is less than happy with the state of things." That was definitely Snape. From... damn, he wasn't use to stone acoustics any more. 

"Still, Severus..." If Dumbledore were here, he'd have walked through the parlour, and Draco was completely nude. But his voice was hollow...firecall? 

"Since his father was...killed, he's had nothing like the support he and his father used to have. My colleagues seem to think he won't hold up." 

"But you brought him here." 

Draco crept towards the bedroom door, which was ajar. Which could only mean Snape meant for him to hear. 

"There may yet be other options." 

"If you think so, Severus." 

Flickering light touched the black linens on Snape's bed, and Draco watched it turn from green to red. Damn; he'd missed the call. 

"What was that?" Draco asked, coming in. 

Snape looked up, but he wasn't surprised. He'd definitely intended Draco to hear. To Draco's shock, he wasn't wearing any clothes—had he been talking to Dumbledore in the nude? But he leant back on the thick black pillows, a firelit picture of sin drawn in charcoal and yellow chalk, and said, "Don't try to convince me you're happy with this situation." 

"This situation?" Draco said. He sat down on the end of the bed and ran his hand up Snape's thin calf; Snape's toes twitched. Draco smiled. "I'm very happy with this situation." 

"That's not what I mean," Snape said. Draco licked the arch of his foot and he hissed, but continued. "With Voldemort. You know the others don't respect you." 

Draco mouthed _blasphemy_ into Snape's instep. 

"It's true." He slid his foot away, so Draco tried the other. "And of course he fucked up the mission to rescue your father." 

"Are you sure?" Draco asked. 

"They got word beforehand," Snape said. "Why else would they have Kissed him then?" 

"Maybe someone else told." 

"But someone knew to tell." 

Draco sighed. "I suppose," he said, before moving upwards. 

*** 

Later, Snape said, "Dumbledore can always use more help." 

Draco sat up. "You can't be serious." 

Snape nodded. 

Draco made a quick glance at the fireplace, where Dumbledore had been. "I can't do that," he said finally. 

"I thought the same thing," Snape said, "but eventually it will be too much for you. You're not ruthless." Draco opened his mouth, and Snape said quickly, "You're not Macnair or Rosier, and despite family connections, you're not either of the Lestranges. You're a Malfoy, better than your father; you're too good for this." 

"I'm sorry," Draco said, "but I can't." 

Snape leaned over and ran his tongue over Draco's nipple. "Not even for this?" 

Sitting up, Draco said, "Is that all this was?" No. Please, no. Not Snape. 

But Snape's voice softened. "Of course not," he said. "I'm merely trying to save you." 

"Thank you," Draco said, "but I don't need saving." He slid off the end of the bed. "I need to go." He didn't say _I won't tell_ ; both of them knew he eventually would. Just as Snape would eventually tell Voldemort how inadequate Draco was. 

As Draco reached for his trousers, he saw Snape go for his wand, and so he did as well. There were things Voldemort should never know. The flash of green assured he wouldn't. 


End file.
